


I Won't Sugarcoat This

by NobodyOfficial



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epiphanies, M/M, you all know what this is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyOfficial/pseuds/NobodyOfficial
Summary: I literally won't sugarcoat this. It's a fic about Kevin dealing with his experiences with the General. I hope I've dealt with it with care, but please tell me if otherwise.More or less canon compliant, but with some bits added and some bits that I basically just re-wrote for convenience.





	I Won't Sugarcoat This

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> •mentions of sexual assault  
> •dealing with the aftermath of sexual assault  
> •self depreciating thoughts
> 
> This was a request by ramieverse on tumblr and y'all should check out his art bc it's great!

The soft hues of dusk were beginning to creep across the clear sky above the hospital. The villagers had long since retreated to their houses, not only through fear of the usual night time predators, but now the threat of the general's intrusion loomed more ominously than ever. Hulking men with guns lay in wait just outside the city, ready to pounce the moment the villagers dropped their guard.

Arnold's tears thudded softly as they hit the sand covered floor. His hands pressed against his ribs and he could almost feel them cracking, folding in on themselves, crushing against his lungs. Each breath only fuelled his building panic, none satisfying his burning chest. His breathing quickened. He blinked. Hard. His head swam in a thick miasma, held heavily in his hands.

Feeling a soft touch on his shoulder, Arnold straightened with a shudder, eyes wide. “Are you ok?” Connor asked. “You sound a bit like you're having a heart attack.”

Arnold placed a hand over his heart and felt it hammering. “I feel horrible,” he whispered. “Kevin…” His eyes welled with tears and he clamped his teeth down on his lips. He'd cried too much that day already.

“It's… It’s alright, Elder Cunningham.” Connor’s voice was quiet; lacking its usual authoritative edge. “Elder Price will be fine. He's… He's not dead.” There was a surety in his eyes, but still his voice wavered. 

“He was my first friend.” In the moment Arnold had lost all traits of his bubbly personality. He coiled in on himself, arms tucked against his chest, his voice barely producing a whisper. “And I was just a massive dick.”

Kevin had cried earlier. Through the thin walls of the surgery room the young elders had listened to their friend’s pained wails, clutching each other's hands as if it would make them feel any less responsible; sharing their guilt. Connor had been silent, sullen, scared. Arnold was tearful and withdrawn.

“No you weren't.” Connor didn't have the heart to tell him to mind his language. He thought Kevin would've appreciated that. “You were just trying your best, I'm sure he would've understood. And anyway, I was a… An… a large male reproductive organ too.”

Arnold wanted to laugh, but his face remained impassive. In the absence of a clock the thundering of his heart marked the passing of time. It was painful. What should have been passing quickly dragged on. And on. Arnold wondered if Kevin had died. Wondered if it would his fault. Or at least if anyone would blame him. Or if he'd blame himself.

A click. The door began to open. Arnold jumped up on shaking legs, resisting both the urge to sprint out the door and to hurl himself at Kevin. He drew a shaky breath; felt Connor’s hand on his shoulder. 

Gotswana stepped out first. A jovial smile lit his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were unusually grave. He patted Arnold comfortingly on the arm. “You look like you've seen a ghost, Elder.” He looked past him, at Connor. “You always look like you've seen a ghost, white boy. Don't worry, your friend is fine.

Gaunt. Glassy-eyed. Diminutive. But fine. 

Connor was squeezing Arnold's shoulder, but that wasn't the only thing holding him back. He felt anchored to the spot, too frightened to make any sudden movements.

“Hi guys.” Kevin cracked a smile. It was apprehensive, but ultimately unchanged. His teeth seemed brighter in the darkness, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. 

Arnold was struggling to find the right words, but Connor stepped in front of him. "Hey Elder Price, how do you feel?" It was mechanical and overly cheesy but no one was in the mood to notice that.

"I'm... Alright," Kevin said. He didn't want to oversell it. 

"Look, I really am sorry about earlier-"

"It was all my fault!" Arnold wailed, holding tight to Connor's shirt so that he didn't launch himself at Kevin. "I was so mean to you and you only wanted to go home and I thought you'd just never understand because you've always been so perfect but it's me who never understands, I never know what anyone's thinking and it makes me a horrible friend I'm so sorry!"

Connor held him tightly by the waist to prevent him from startling a wide-eyed Kevin any more. He was crying again, but this time out of anger and frustration at himself. He wanted to go home. He was just ruining everything here.

"Look, I think you boys should just get back to the centre," Gotswana said. "It's getting dark, you don't want to be out when the lions come. Shall I walk you home?"

Arnold and Connor turned to Kevin, not wanting to answer for him. "We'll be fine," he said. 

Gotswana walked them to the door. Kevin was limping. His forehead creased with pain. He didn't complain though. Every time Arnold glanced up at him he smiled as if they hadn't been fighting. As if he wasn't stuck with Arnold and Arnold hadn't ditched him for better opportunities.

"Stay safe, ok?" Gotswana bid them at the door. "And Elder Price, if you have any problems please come back to see me."

Kevin was leaning against Connor now, using him like a crutch. They hadn't exchanged a single word, instead gravitated towards each and silently communicated their needs. Kevin was struggling and Connor obviously wanted to repent for his earlier mistake, so this was an obvious solution.

Arnold turned around and hugged Gotswana tightly. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Ah, Elder Cunningham," he smiled fondly. "Our very own prophet. Take good care of your friend. The soreness and irritability will pass in just a few days, but the mental pain will take time. He needs someone who cares about him."

"But I'm a horrible friend," Arnold said, head pressed against his chest. He was sure Gotswana could feel him shaking.

"No." Gotswana stroked his hair then patted him affectionately on the cheek. "You are a good friend. But you are a young boy. You've got a lot of learning still to do. Don't shy away from that."

Arnold thanked him for the confusing advice and hurried after Connor and Kevin. They were trudging along in silence and although Arnold had a burning desire to say something, anything, he realised that they must just need silence right now. So they passed the rest of the journey listening to the soft sounds of Uganda preparing for night.

The sky was a dark red when they reached the missionary hut. Arnold knew from watching far too much TV that that meant danger and hurried inside. Kevin had silently insisted that he walk on his own for the last hundred meters, so Connor was now hovering around him as he struggled towards the centre.

The rest of the elders were in a nervous huddle in the seating area, worry and shame plastered on their faces. They looked up at Arnold in unison, who gave a grim smile. He didn't know what to say. He still didn't really know what had happened; Kevin had mumbled about something incredible, then ran off towards the general’s camp, and the next Arnold heard of him was that he was with Gotswana in hospital. 

Kevin lumbered through the door and all eyes turned to him. He smiled at the gawking elders, then said, “I think I'll just go to bed.” Connor started to head after him, then realised his mistake and hurried back to the seating area. 

“Ok elders.” His voice was once again strong and commanding, now that Kevin was out of the room. “It's late and we've all had a stressful day. The Mission President’s coming tomorrow. I think we should just go to bed.”

No one protested, they were good Mormon boys after all, but eyes lingered on Kevin's door as they walked away. Only Arnold and Connor remained, neither of them sitting, neither even looking at the other. They both felt guilty. They both felt responsible. They both knew they wouldn't sleep that night.

“Look, Elder Cunningham…” He perched on the back of the sofa, frowned, then stood up again. “It's not your fault.” He looked dissatisfied. There were other things he wanted to say, but didn't know how. In his life a lot of things had gone unsaid, what was one more to add to the pile?

“Ok,” Arnold nodded, unconvinced. “But it's not yours either. Night Connor.”

“Mm. Night,” he replied.

Kevin was just staring at the wall. He had the covers pulled up around his chin, his back pressed against the wall behind him, and he stared straight ahead. He didn't look distressed or worried, in fact his face was almost completely neutral, but that scared Arnold even more. 

He approached slowly, not even sure if Kevin had noticed him in the room, and began to pull his bed away from Kevin's. He'd always seemed quite uncomfortable with the proximity in which they slept, so tonight Arnold decided he'd allow him some space. Tonight, and every other night until they returned home.

“Hey, what're you doing?” Kevin asked, suddenly animated. He cocked his head in a questioning manner and grinned lopsidedly.

“I, umm, I just thought that, that you'd appreciate a bit of space tonight, y’know?” Arnold stuttered. The bed squeaked as he dragged it along the stone floor. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” Kevin assured him with the same fake smile. Arnold stopped. He reached to undo his belt and start undressing, but pulled his hands back in hesitation. Already Kevin had shown himself to be more reserved getting dressed, glaring daggers at Arnold when he tried to make conversation with him when his pants were halfway down, but now he seemed content to go to bed in his uniform.

In the end he removed his belt and got into bed fully clothed. He was bursting with things to say, desperate to gush to Kevin about Nabulungi and all the anxiety that had been steadily building up since this morning. Instead he whipped off his glasses and buried his head in the pillow. He imitated tiredness, sighing softly and rustling the duvet.

“Arnold?” Kevin's voice cracked in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Don't you want to talk?” It wasn't a question; it was a plead. Kevin wanted to stay up and talk.

“Course. Just thought you'd want some space.” He sat up, wrapping the duvet around him like a cape. Kevin's bed seemed very far away now.

“How was your day?” 

Under any other circumstances Arnold had learnt that the correct answer to this question was ‘fine. What about yours?’ but he sensed that this wasn't one of those moments. This was an invitation to fill the darkness with meaningless words.

“I'm in love with Nabulungi,” he said simply. The statement made his chest buzz. “She let me baptise her today and I'm gonna be honest, I didn't really know what I was doing, but it felt really good. She's so pretty.” Kevin didn't say anything. “And a lot of other Ugandans wanted to be baptised too, it was really great. And now the mission president’s coming and I'm scared.”

“Why?”

“I might've lied,” Arnold shrugged, “Just a little bit to get people interested in the Church.”

“Oh. Well that's fine.” Kevin, the perfect Mormon boy, had nothing more to say about Arnold's sin.

“Do you, maybe, want to talk about something?” Arnold offered.

There was a long pause during which Arnold became anxious and fidgety, waiting for Kevin to reply. 

“Alright,” he finally exhaled. “But could you, umm, could you come over here?” 

“Like, beside your bed?” Yesterday Kevin had taken great pleasure in shoving Arnold back to his own bed if so much as a lock of his hair touched Kevin's mattress.

“Yeah.”

Still swathed in his duvet, Arnold padded across the space between them and paused inches from Kevin's bed, staring down at his shadowy form. He could see the moonlight reflected in Kevin's eyes; in his tears. He looked up at Arnold. “You can sit on the bed.”

Cautiously Arnold perched on the edge of the bed, making sure his legs still took most of his weight. Kevin pulled on the back of his shirt, toppling him backwards on to the bed. Arnold sat up immediately. “Sorry-“

“It's ok,” Kevin interjected. “Just… just sit on the bed. Ok?”

“Ok.” Arnold leaned against the wall, their shoulders pressed together. Kevin was so still it felt like he wasn't even breathing. His skin was prickled with goosebumps but he felt warm to touch. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“I dunno. It hurts.”

Arnold nodded as though he understood, recalling when he broke his ankle or the hardest his dad had ever slapped him, but he didn't think any of it compared to what Kevin had experienced. 

“I feel like I should be sadder. I don't really know what I feel. I've spent my whole life practising being happy, I feel like I should just… carry on with that? How sad should I be?” He looked at Arnold expectantly, waiting for an actual answer, for someone to quantify his emotions.

“I'm not sure,” Arnold shrugged. He felt pressured to say something helpful. That's what friends do in those situations, right? Offer help and comfort? “I think that's totally up to you. If you don't feel sad that's ok. But if you do it's definitely justified. Sorry, I'm not helpful.”

“Don't worry.” A short pause. “It was completely my fault.”

“What?” Arnold lowered his voice. “What? No. You were only trying to help Kevin, it's all my fault for being so mean to you.”

“I'm not very helpful though, am I?” Kevin sighed. Arnold started to protest, but Kevin silenced him. “Don't. I don't want to talk anymore.”

Arnold had to oblige. 

~

Kevin got up when the sheet over the window started to glow. He didn't think he'd slept, but he didn't remember. It didn't matter; he was sure he would've been tired anyway. 

Arnold was still asleep on his bed, half his body dangling off the mattress, knuckles grazing the floor. Kevin didn't remember him looking so young. He was just a kid, with unkempt hair and chubby cheeks and a blanket clutched in one hand. They were both just kids, really.

The world was silent so Kevin left Arnold undisturbed, not wanting to fracture the stillness. His clothes were crumpled and his tie askew but he didn't feel like changing. He wanted something that would wake him up. He felt like he'd been asleep since he arrived in Uganda and it was stifling.

Connor was sat in the communal area, a glass of water clutched in his hands. Kevin couldn't tell if he'd been there all night or if he'd just woken up. He looked exhausted.

“Hey.” Kevin's voice was soft but Connor still startled.

“Oh, hi.” He moved over on the sofa to let Kevin sit down. “How are you?”

“Fine. A little dead inside. Maybe dreaming. What about you?”

Connor looked up at Kevin, shocked. Maybe it was the circumstances, or maybe he'd already decided Kevin was such a self absorbed person he didn't ask others about their feelings. “I'm going to be honest with you elder, I feel pretty awful,” Connor said. “I'm so sorry about yesterday, I didn't mean to let that happen. I've been a terrible district leader.”

“No, no. You've been a great district leader. You did warn us about going out on our own and about leaving our mission companions. I did both. Everything that happened was my own fault. I'm sorry.” He felt so relieved to finally say it, especially to Connor, who he'd grown to respect immensely in the few days he'd been in Uganda.

“Kevin,” Connor gasped. He reached out, as if to lay a hand on Kevin's arm, but quickly recoiled. “Kevin, you can't say that. It wasn't your fault. Not even a little bit. How can you think that?” He was trying to stay calm but his anxiety was obvious in his jerky movement. 

Kevin shrugged smoothly. “It was my fault. I always thought I'd have this perfect life, y’know? I was so disillusioned. You should always just put up with stuff, don't try to make a difference. I have to learn to leave things alone.”

“It-it wasn't your fault!” Connor exclaimed, losing his usual composure.

Kevin flinched involuntarily.

“Sorry! Sorry.” Connor curled in to himself, shrinking away from Kevin.

“No, you guys don't have to… don't have to tiptoe around me. Can we just drop it? It's not important.” Of course, Kevin didn't want to drop it. He wanted to tell Connor how fuzzy and fake he felt, how he didn't know what to do next when he'd always been so sure before, how it hurt that even Arnold didn't know how to talk to him anymore. He felt like a different person now. 

“Of course it's important, Kevin. I'm not going to make you talk to me, but you have to talk to someone. You can't blame yourself for this-“

“Well you can't blame yourself either. You weren't even there-“

“Exactly, I wasn't there! I should've been there for you and I wasn't!” Their conversation had so quickly escalated. Kevin hadn't even realised he'd been shouting. Connor looked horrified at his behaviour, but Kevin just turned and walked out the door.

He could picture Connor’s distraught face, staring after him and wondering how he'd gone wrong. That made him feel even worse, a burning guilt clutching his heart. He'd never liked anyone like he liked Connor. He made him nervous and shaky, but somehow elated at the same time. Like an adrenaline rush.

The landscape glowed red, the sand seeming to warm up with the sun’s touch. Kevin didn't know where he was going, and surely he should've learned his lesson about wondering around Uganda on his own? But everyone was suddenly treating him like a different person and that made him furious. All he wanted right now was for things to be normal. 

The village was just beginning to wake up. Kevin lingered on the outskirts, watching as fruit was carefully placed in crates and put on display, wooden signs were leant against houses to signify a home had become a business, and customers slowly began to fill up the space between houses.

A small cart with a tin roof and a metal barrel pulled up beside Kevin. He watched with fascination as cart-owner lit an oil heater beneath the barrel and took polystyrene cups from his cart. As it began to boil the substance smelled bitter and sharp, but even from a distance Kevin could feel it waking him up, making him more alert. He felt less vulnerable suddenly. 

He walked over to the cart.

“Good morning sir.” Kevin attempted his best Mormon-missionary-smile, but somehow it felt wrong. “May I have… one please?”

“One coffee?” The vender asked.

Coffee was forbidden. Wrong. Like a drug. “Yes, please.”

The vender opened a little tap and poured Kevin a cup, then offered him a stool. Kevin took it. The coffee was as acrid and and overpowering as it had smelt, but Kevin found that the moment the cup left his lips he wanted another sip. It burned in his throat and woke him up.

As soon as he'd finished one cup he asked for another.

Kevin passed the whole day like this. He thought of very little, but every so often he remembered the Mission President and had the urge to go and protect Arnold. He didn't know where Arnold was.

As he continued to drink coffee the sharp, alert feeling it had first given him began to ebb and a wave of tiredness took over. He found himself leaning sluggishly on the cart, no longer unwilling to think but unable. 

“Kevin?” 

A soft touch on his shoulder. He startled.

“Uh, hey.” Arnold retracted his hand and knotted his fingers nervously in his hair. “So umm Connor’s super worried about you and the Mission President’s nearly here. We're kind of really, really not following rule seventy two right now.”

“I don't care.” Kevin hated the way Arnold's face crumpled. He felt like he'd betrayed him.

“B-b-but this is your chance to show the Mission President what amazing things you've done!” Arnold spluttered. “Please.” He was begging. So hurt and afraid. Kevin didn't want to be the person who made him look like that.

“All the amazing things _you_ have done, Elder,” he corrected bitterly. “Just go by yourself, tell him I got eaten by lions or something. May as well have.” 

“Kevin! What's happened to you?” Arnold gasped and clasped his hands over his mouth. He hadn't meant it like that. He was sorry. He was horrified. “I-I-I didn't mean… I'm - I'm sorry I-“

“I woke up!” Kevin snapped. 

“Of course you woke up, you've had twelve cups of coffee!” He reached to grab Kevin's hand, but stopped. Kevin grabbed his instead. 

“Fine. I'm coming.”

Arnold started to lead him away. “Hey! Isn't anyone gonna pay me?” The vendor shouted after then. 

Kevin shrugged. “I've got nothing on me.”

Arnold pulled a handful of crumpled notes from his pocket and passed them to the man. “How much is this?”

“That is about one cent, Elder,” he glowered.

“Oh.” Arnold scrambled in his pocket and deposited a large handful of Ugandan shillings. “Keep the change… or come find me later if that's not enough. I'm still getting used to the currency.”

They trekked through the village in silence. Ever so often Arnold looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did. Kevin wanted to talk about something, anything, he felt like he'd been nothing but mean to Arnold over the past few days, but he feared it would be fake and forced. Instead he watched Arnold navigate he village terrain like a native and kept his mouth shut. 

Most of the villagers had gathered with the elders, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Mission President. They were dressed in strange costumes and huddled around Nabulungi, who was gushing dramatically about something. When she saw Arnold she twirled round and hugged him. 

“Elder Cunningham, I am so excited!” She beamed. “I have the most amazing thing to show you! You will be so proud!”

Arnold didn't know how to reply, blushing and shrugging his shoulders. 

There was a hush suddenly, elders and mormons alike turning to stare at the new arrival. The Mission President already looked so out of place to Kevin, his clean pressed suit gathering savanna dust. He thought he'd been desperate to get home but now he found himself shying away from it, as though he was too different to go back. That was stupid. He'd been there two days.

The Mission President approached Arnold, who grabbed Kevin's hand and pulled him into the crowd before anything could be said. Connor stepped forward to do the introductions. 

Arnold was quivering and edging away from the group, still clutching tightly to Kevin's sleeve. It was unusual; Arnold loved talking to people. To anyone about anything. “Arnold-“

“And now!” Nabulungi proclaimed boldly. “We are going to honour you with the story of Joseph Smith, American Moses!”

“Oh no,” Arnold mumbled. “Oh no, oh no, oh no!”

“What's wrong?” Kevin asked.

“They do not know the story of Joseph Smith!”

And they didn't. But they knew a lot about friendship and caring and perseverance; bravery in the face of adversity; imagination. Things they only could've learnt from Arnold. Things Kevin clearly hadn't learnt after years of reading the Book of Mormon, and was only starting to learn now. Yes, it was a disastrous fanfiction of the Book of Mormon, but it was an inspiring fiction in its own right. 

The Mission President dismissed the villagers. He looked like he'd been drinking sour milk, eyes scrunched and lips curled; brow knitted together in fury. 

Arnold tried to turn and run away, but he was still holding Kevin's sleeve and he couldn't seem to let go. He panicked, squirming like his feet were glued to the ground. Kevin suddenly found himself terrified of the authority figure, tense and prepared for a fight, but all the same he stepped protectively in front of Arnold.

“This is ridiculous!” The Mission President raged. “None of you are mormons. None of you! You're all dismissed from your mission immediately. I want you all to go home.”

Arnold turned and ran off into the village. 

“I'll get him.” Kevin and Connor said in unison. 

“You've dealt with enough trauma already Elder-“ Connor started.

“No, no, I'm fine,” Kevin assured him. He wasn't fine, but there was nothing in the world that could've stopped him from comforting Arnold at that moment. “I feel like I've been a bad friend. Let me sort this out.”

“Ok.” Connor patted him confidently on the shoulder. “I believe in you.”

Kevin hadn't quite mastered the village streets like Arnold had, but he hadn't got far, and was cowering behind a hut, trying not to cry. His first were balled in anger and his eyes shone. He bit down hard on his lip to try and stop the flow of tears. “I’m so sorry,” he bawled. “I've done it again, hadn't I? I've screwed everything up.”

“What? No, no.” Kevin pulled him into a hug before he could refuse. They both needed it. “Arnold, that was incredible. You gave hope to the whole village. You got them interested in… in something! That was creative and smart and brilliant.”

“But I got us all kicked off the mission. I'm a terrible Mormon!” His tears just added to the disarray of Kevin's shirt.

“No, no, you're not,” Kevin urged, clutching him tightly. “You helped people, Arnold, you taught them important lessons about life. You're the perfect Mormon.”

“Nah.” He smiled shyly up at Kevin. “That's you.”

“Actually, I think I'm content just being a follower for a bit,” Kevin confessed. “It's much easier. Less dangerous. I think I'll leave the incredible things up to you.”  

“Not, not all of them though. You still have to do some incredible things, I can't do it on my own!”

“Ok.” They started to walk back towards the village centre. “I'll try to still do some incredible things.”

The General had stalked back into the village, silent, ominous, and overbearing. Kevin froze. He was torn between fleeing and punching the General with every ounce of strength in his body. The end result was doing neither. He felt helpless at the hands of the General once again.

The villagers had clumped together in fear, reaching out desperately for Nabulungi, who had wondered from the huddle. She stood boldly in front of the general but her eyes were empty. 

“Nabulungi!” Arnold rushed forward, met by fearful murmuring from the villagers.

“He's alive…”

“… A miracle!”

“… But the lions…”

Then, one cry to drown all the others out, “Our prophet has returned from the dead!”

Arnold frowned. He didn't remember being dead. But that, surprisingly, was the least of his worries. Pushing Nabulungi back towards Kevin, he positioned himself protectively in front of them both. 

“That's right! I'm back from the dead!” He sneered. 

“And backing away from me.” The General advanced. Kevin flinched. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” Kevin had never seen Arnold so calm. He didn't stutter or lower his gaze. He defiantly stared the General down, a smirk playing on his lips. “I'm protecting the people I love. And if you don't leave them alone I'll turn you in to a lesbian!”

He stamped his foot down aggressively and the general fled. “What's a lesbian?” He whispered to Kevin. “It's like a mythical creature, right?”

“No.” Kevin found he was smiling despite himself. He felt better suddenly. Not quite the same as before, but maybe that was a good thing. He'd been following the same rules since he was old enough to follow them; maybe it was time to change that. “It's a woman who likes other women.”

“Oh.” Arnold was downcast and ashamed. “Well, he didn't know that either, so I guess it's ok.”

Nabulungi hurled herself at him, grinning ear to ear. “Elder Cunningham! You're a hero!”

“Nah, come on guys.” Arnold tried to brush it off as the villagers crowded around him, praising and congratulating him. Hugging him. Kevin hung around the outside of the group, ever so often offering a warm smile. 

It was only when he saw a trail of forlorn elders with suitcases heading towards the bus stop that he sprung in to action. “Hey guys! What're you doing?”

“What the Mission President said,” Connor said, stopping all too eagerly. “We've failed our mission. We have to go home.”

“Failed? How have we failed?” He gestured to the joyous villagers behind him, and Arnold, beaming wildly. “Look how happy Arnold's made the villagers. Look how happy they've made Arnold! Don't you want that too?”

“Don't you want to go home?” Connor asked tentatively. 

“When I watched the General commit murder I certainly did. Then when he assaulted me and I was lying on that cold metal table I wanted to again. I broke the rules and something awful happened. I just wanted to make it all alright again. I never wanted to break a rule again. But breaking rules is ok, I think. As long as it's for the right reasons. It certainly worked for everyone here.

“So, what do you say? Do we do what we came out here to do, or are you all going home?” It was an immediate and unanimous ‘stay’.

It felt like a fresh start. A new life in Africa without rules to follow, without jobs to fulfil. Once again Kevin was buzzing with anticipation, and eagerness to take on new challenges.

He turned and grabbed Arnold by his shirt, putting an arm around his shoulders. “New start?”

Arnold was about to blurt something out, it was on the tip of his tongue, but he let it slide. They'd talk about it later, huddled under the blankets like they were in a tent, whispering all their secrets. But for now… “New start,” he agreed.

Arnold was soft and comforting to hug. It was all Kevin had wanted over the past few days, a gentle, reassuring connection with another person. There'd be plenty of opportunity for that over the new few years, it seemed.

Seeing Connor’s gloomy expression, Kevin smiled and held out an arm, welcoming him in to the huddle he seemed to be building. Connor awkwardly leaned into his side, blushing just slightly pink.

“You're a great district leader,” he reassured him.

“But I'm not a district leader anymore,” Connor said forlornly.

“Of course you are. We might not be on a mission, but we sure are a district and we sure do need leading. I can't think of anyone better for the job.

“I think maybe we're not defined by what happens to us, but how we choose to react. And right now we're all pretty damned awesome.”

Everyone had begun to gather around Kevin, transfixed by his words. Arnold, still clinging to his chest, was grinning proudly. Connor seemed more at ease.

Time for something incredible. Just a small thing. Just a speech. But hopefully one that would be retold by missionaries for years, of when the rouge district nine joined the village of Kitguli.

“We are all Latter Day Saints, all of us…”

**Author's Note:**

> Although I am a girl living in a rough area and there have of course been 'incidents' I've never actually been a victim of sexual assault, or studied the consequences of it outside of my own research for this story. If anyone with greater knowledge than me thinks I've portrayed something wrongly or unfairly please just tell me! I'm a nice person, I won't mind in the slightest! Actually it would be helpful!
> 
> I'm everyonewholovesmehasdied on tumblr and am currently doing Halloween prompts if you wanna swing by and request something. The actual prompt list is probably lost on my blog by now, but you can request anything, I don't mind!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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